No poet has ever achieved the bluesy, jazzy rhythm in poetry like Langston Hughes. Everyone else either sounds like a copycat or as is they are stiff and wooden puppets stringing words together. It can be the coldest, darkest winter night, but when I read Hughes, I am suddenly back on Beale Street or Bourbon Street, soaking up the heat and noise and the music...and life.
![[home]](http://plagiarist.com/images/home.gif)